


I Learned How To Dance (But I'd Never Shown It To You)

by tethealla



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-30
Updated: 2010-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-10 20:50:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tethealla/pseuds/tethealla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While her brother fawns over France, someone else entirely fawns over Belarus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Learned How To Dance (But I'd Never Shown It To You)

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is oddly enough Spain/Belarus (although really only if you squint. I think). I did, amazingly, get this idea out of vague historical references, although this doesn't nearly match up to the relations between the countries for real, haha. Basically, I don't really know either. A big thanks to both [](http://bioplague.livejournal.com/profile)[**bioplague**](http://bioplague.livejournal.com/) and [](http://lilichen.livejournal.com/profile)[**lilichen**](http://lilichen.livejournal.com/) for continually reading over my dribble. ♥

> Byelorussia disliked her Brother's new crush.
> 
> Or more accurately, she hated being shoved into his obsession over him.
> 
> French was to be spoken in the courts (where she never was), French fashion was popular (also in the courts, where she never was), French this, French that - she hated it. Her brother, her dear, sweet Russia, was all in a tizzy over this man's culture, and she didn't find it attractive in the slightest.
> 
> Still, her brother had smiled and grinned and pushed both her and Ukraine into French styled dresses, spinning them around in anticipation for a ball just like those strange Westerners loved so much. Byelorussia had just frowned and frowned as the hours drew on, as her Brother tried to shove foreign words into her mouth (again), and tried to get her to try new foods and new things.
> 
> She stood to the side as much as possible when the ball began - only speaking when her Brother spoke to her, hiding as she felt out of place in her far too fancy dress and far too ludicrous setting. She wanted nothing more than to go home and tend to her fields, to deal with the simplicity of her life - as tough as it was, it was _hers_ and _her_ people, not this stranger her Brother seemed so enamored with. She knew her elder Sister probably felt the same way, but unlike her, her Sister was smiling and laughing along with her Brother - although full of nerves and with that sweet shyness that only she could have, not that brash boldness her Brother held now.
> 
> The annoyance in question finally appeared - late, although he claimed that was quite in style - smiling and flaunting his fashion and his language with the sharpest of tongues. He was draped in blue silks and golds, layered in his wealth and designs. Byelorussia almost snorted in laughter as she saw how _girly_ he looked in comparison to what she was used to; a man from her people was much better than any of his.
> 
> But he was sweet kisses on hands and grins with the most teasing of flairs, and praised her Brother for his choices of decorations and dishes. Russia smiled and chuckled happily, showing him around and talking with that bold child's voice he always had, so _so_ happy to see France himself enjoying everything.
> 
> "I am so pleased," France began, his voice clearly betraying his amusement in the situation - this was more like a game to him than he let on, and Byelorussia knew that almost immediately. Her Brother was little more than a cute child to him with these antics. "With the fondness you have expressed in my culture! _Especially_ with your use of French in your courts, so so sweet of you, mon chéri."
> 
> He only spoke in French, babbling away and even making her eager Brother lose his place now and again. Byelorussia tried to ignore it, trailing along behind them with her Sister as they toured the ball, leading up to the flourishing dances the nobles were engaged in. Again, she was not here - her people were almost never here, why should she care? She didn't, and she didn't _want_ to be here. She hardly spoke French, and only cared to know enough of what her Brother was saying when he tried to make her learn by only speaking it.
> 
> As they reached the dances, France turned on both her and Ukraine, a wide smile on his face and a devious twinkle in his eyes. "You two," he began, his voice as grandiose as his ridiculous outfit, "are quite the beauties! Would you honor me with a dance during this?" Her fool of a sister just tittered and laughed, blushing like the modest young woman she was. Byelorussia simply ignored him, shifting her eyes away. He was loud and annoying and she wanted to leave. This was stupid. _Stupid._
> 
> France smiled at her, asking her again for a dance, complimenting her hair, her dress, her _anything_. Russia sighed as Byelorussia continued her silence, explaining she didn't know French quite as well - it might have gone over her head (or she just didn't care, she knew her Brother knew she didn't care). France just laughed it off, pulling her siblings away to the dance floor as Byelorussia shrunk back against the wall.
> 
> She stood there for quite some time, watching the foolish nobles dance around under the flickering lights as she picked at her dress. She felt awkward and uncomfortable - she wanted to go home ever more now. She wanted to go back home and throw herself into her traditional dresses, to dance around the bonfires and colour herself in reds and whites and hand-stitched patterns.
> 
> She did _not_ want to be here, where her Brother didn't include her in the courts, where she was nothing more than a doormat for these stupid nobles and still just a broken battlefield to most. It had been far too long since she had been in a court (back with Lithuania, she thought bitterly), and she didn't feel welcomed anymore. She didn't _belong_ here, and with these antics, she definitely didn't _want_ to.
> 
> "¡Hola!"
> 
> Byelorussia looked up from picking at her sleeve, still stuck frowning as she looked for the new voice. A young man stood not a few feet from her, all smiles and dark hair and bright green eyes and tanned skin - yet another foreigner. He was dressed just as fancy as France was, all in silks and bright gold edging, although more in reds than France's blues. She frowned more, a small sigh escaping her as she leaned more into the wall. She definitely did not want to deal with another fool.
> 
> He sighed a little in response, joining her in leaning against the wall, still keeping that small distance from her. "Eeeeh-" he paused for a second, looking out at the crowd before back at her, a nervous smile in his eyes and on his face. "Do you speak French?" he asked, motioning with his hands in an exaggerated manner, obviously trying to make up for her possible lack of understanding with that instead.
> 
> Byelorussia just stared, frowning all the more. Just who on earth was this?
> 
> The young man laughed, shrugging. "Ah, well, my French isn't very good either, even with France kinda half being my boss now and all, I'm still not so good at it." For someone who claimed not to know the language well, he sure knew how to babble in it. He took her silence as an agreement, relaxing against the wall.
> 
> His smile picked up as he continued on, not caring or just not noticing the frown on Byelorussia's face. "I figured I should say hi, since you look just as awkward as I feel!" He seemed to grow nervous when he caught the look on her face - it really was quite the glare, after all - stumbling to apologize. "Oh, no I don't mean _you_ look awkward - you look very very pretty! It's a nice dress - I just meant, I think..." he paused, looking for the words to continue. "Ah, out of place?"
> 
> Byelorussia stopped her glaring for a moment, looking at him curiously now. Was she really being that obvious about it?
> 
> His smile was gentle now - which nearly reminded her of her Brother when they were younger, all sunflowers and bright warmth, but so much more bolder than her Brother's had ever been. "I'm only here since Francia dragged me along - he said it would be fun - but I'm not one for these things either!" he said, laughing. "I'm much more a farmer or a fighter or something like that - I'd rather be in my fields than at one of these stuffy things. It's much more something Francia likes."
> 
> She didn't answer, her eyes flickering to his uncovered hands - they were rough too, just like hers were after working in the fields and toiling under sun and sweat. Just like hers, just like her sister's - although her sister had sighed and covered hers with gloves, too embarrassed to show it to the nobles, as always. His weren't covered though, weren't hidden like France's were, and Byelorussia felt a strange sense of trust from just that simple statement. While France and her Sister were hiding something, neither of them were - or could, perhaps.
> 
> He smiled just and warmly and gently as before, giving her a grin. "It's nice to see someone that agrees though! Most nobles are stuffy and boring, but you don't seem like that. Or your sister."
> 
> Byelorussia stared for a moment, trying to process him. He was like her - she could feel that kinship that they all shared when they met, it was like a shared strike of electricity, or a shared heartbeat to their land and the earth. After another moment - full of his smile and her continued uncertain stare - she finally spoke, all in her broken, horribly accented French. "Who... you are?" She wish she could speak her own language again - that flowed so much easier off her tongue than Russian or French or other nonsense ever did.
> 
> He stared for a moment, processing her French before laughing and pointing at himself, smiling happily. "I am España! Ah, um... I think Francia calls me L'Espagne or some nonsense like that." He really was all smiles - it almost unnerved her. Russia was all smiles too, but they were hardly like this - hardly bold and bright anymore, more edged in cold and something she tried very hard to ignore, like her Sister did. "He's somewhat of my boss now, thus me being here. I'm glad it wasn't a waste though!"
> 
> Byelorussia just stared - she could barely understand his babbling French, much less communicate back. He had an accent too, although it fit a little better than hers or her Brother's. Still, she could hardly keep up with her limited knowledge, frowing at him as he looked ready to continue his talking spree.
> 
> Ukraine seemed to sense her unease though, suddenly whipping up from nowhere to stand next to her, nervous smiles with a twinge of tears on their edge. "Oh, I am sorry, sorry. My little sister is not good in French," she said, her French almost just as broken as Byelorussia's own, but Spain just smiled and laughed.
> 
> "Oh, it's fine! I've mostly been talking to her. She's good company, even if she's quiet," he said, his tone gently teasing. "You must be... Malorossija? Ucrania?" he titled his head, trying to judge the reaction to the names on Ukraine's face. (Did he catch that jump at the second name?) "And this is - what did Francia call you - Russie Blanche? Biélorussie?"
> 
> Neither sisters answered, Ukraine only looking nervously around for their Brother (what were they to be called now anyway?), much to Spain's confusion. He just shrugged and smiled instead, warmth all over again. "Ah, I suppose that's not too important!" he smiled at them both, motioning for them to follow him towards the dance floor, where France was calling them over. He was still with her brother, still being as loud and obnoxious as his fashion.
> 
> Ukraine told him to wait a moment, and Spain smiled and gave a small bow, leaving to join his friend for the moment. She turned to Byelorussia, that constant worry evident in her face. "I am not one much for these dances either," she confessed, her voice low, a hint of a laugh behind it. Ukraine clasped her hands around her sister's, a smile playing on her face. "I think we will have to throw ourselves into our own dresses when we get home, right?"
> 
> Byelorussia relaxed, knowing what her sister promised - not only familiarity in their own skin, but with their voices. They'd talk in their old tongues and dance and make flower wreaths and sing, just like they did when they were little and things were much simpler. Everything was then.
> 
> Before they walked back, Ukraine whispered in Byelorussia's ear again, giving a joke about France that they both chuckled over. "Although," she began, her eyes going to the dark haired Spain for a moment, "he almost reminds me of..." She trailed off, looking at Byelorussia's usually stoic face, nervous to continue. Byelorussia just silently agreed; she knew what her sister meant - he was like Brother when he was younger and they all smiled under a brighter sun, albeit much much bolder and much much darker, somehow.
> 
> They walked back to the dance floor, rejoining their giddy Brother and the two strangers - France still with his cool smile, and Spain with his warm grin. "Sisters, sisters! Look, there is another guest!" Russia said excitedly, pulling them to Spain, laughing along with them. Ukraine laughed nervously again and their idle chatter began again, quickly leaving Spain out as France took charge of the conversation.
> 
> Spain flittered back to Byelorussia's side, that same smile all over his face. "They're very lively!" he said, laughing. "I wanted to ask though," he said, catching her almost off guard with the stare he gave her, "if I could dance with you?" He extended his hand, giving her a small bow like all the nobles did.
> 
> It quickly caught the others' attentions, causing Byelorussia to flush and glare, hating the sudden spotlight. France chuckled, dropping some comment in whispered French, while Russia and Ukraine looked at her expectantly. Spain just looked at her curiously, his head tilting as he stared.
> 
> "Oh, you didn't understand!" he said, laughing, not letting her get a word in edgewise as he swept one of her hands up and placed his other hand on her waist. "It's really simple, just follow my lead!"
> 
> And lead her away he did, embarrassing her to no end as he spun her along with the nobles in their fancy dances on the floor. He was rough and not as precise as many of them were, but he smiled and laughed and held himself more naturally, not as stiff as their practiced steps were. He held her gently as he babbled away as they danced, ignoring the stares and the curious looks and the laughing from his friend as they passed.
> 
> When the ball was over and France and Spain turned to leave, to go back to their own countries (or to delegations with Russia, Byelorussia cared not), they gathered together again. Russia busied himself with talking to France, while France busied himself with staring at Ukraine's bosom _again_ (how could Brother ignore _that_!?) - but Spain wandered over to Byelorussia one last time, pressing a gentle kiss to her hand, that warm light still playing in his eyes. "I knew you were a farmer too," he teased as he let go of her hand. "It's good to have some level ground in here, right?"
> 
> She didn't answer - he was almost as brash and as annoying as his friend, but he was much warmer, less pomp and circumstance, more the simple pulse of shared blood that she recognized as her own. But, at the same point, she knew she felt that pulse of greed in him she didn't share, some foreign breath of _want_ that wasn't in her. Maybe it was that foreign feeling that made her think of her Brother, rather than the smiles. But she gave him an even stare, agreeing that at least, at least, he wasn't as bad as France.
> 
> He gave her a chuckle in response, kissing her quickly on both cheeks and bidding her farewell before scattering away, leaving her flushing and annoyed and cursing in Russian under her breath.
> 
> Spain didn't seem to visit again, and after France turned on her Brother, she didn't hear about them for quite a while. Not until the wars came, and not until everything changed and she was in a house that was her own. She did have that annoying Spaniard knocking on her door though, asking her to a completely different dance entirely - one of politics and not just dresses and smiles.
> 
> Still, she disliked her Brother's once crush.
> 
> But, at least she disliked his friends a little less.

  
FAIL FACT TIME

_Byelorussia_ \- Belarus was not called Belarus until after her independence from the Soviet Union, and had been traditionally called Byelorussia/Belorussia/etc. - or "White Russia."

_Malorossija_ \- "Little Russia," an old and traditional name for Ukraine, especially when she was part of the Russian Empire.

_what were they to be called now anyway?_ \- In this instance, neither Ukraine or Belarus really had _names_ \- save their traditional ones - but were part of the Russian Empire.

_that annoying Spaniard knocking on her door_ \- Earlier this year, while Spain had the EU head seat, they extended a welcome to the ex-Soviet states that had not yet joined the EU, including Belarus and Ukraine. (Basically, Spain was asking her to join the party, and Belarus said no, yet again. /hit)

OVERALL - This fic is basically set sometime during Catherine the Great's rule (1762-1792), when Russian nobles were obsessed with French culture. French was spoke in the courts, was taught to children, and just kind of was all over the high-class scene in Russia. Belarus and Ukraine were part of Russia at this time, although neither really had a say in things and were rather poor and simple in comparison to the high fashion of Russia's courts. Spain, at this time, had a French king (from the House of Bourbon), thus the reason he's just randomly there with France, haha.

Basically, I just pieced together two things and ran with it. \:|/


End file.
